Keane had been spending several minutes training with his bokken. Savelad took a swig from his jug. “Anyone can learn t’ fight with a sword. ’Takes a true warrior to fight with their soul.” Passing his words off as drunken ramblings, Keane continued to strike his weapon downward, repeatedly. “You hear me, Boy?”

“Aye.”

“The warrior’s soul flows through his blade. It’s an extension of his body. Yer arm ends with a blade. Yer spirit flows through yer entire body, every extension.” Keane strikes the empty space in front of him, once again. “See that sack of beans?”

“Aye.”

“Try hittin’ that.” Keane readied into a position in front of his new target. “Hold on. Close yer eyes. Now, feel the strength in yer heart. Feel it flow through yer arms and through yer blade. Feel that energy. Embrace it.”

“I don’ feel anything.”

“Keep yer eyes closed. Pull it from yer chest. This energy’s yer soul, Boy. Yer most powerful weapon. Once you feel it, let it go, and strike.” Almost a minute passed, and Keane swung, tearing the sack of beans open on the floor of the deck. “How’d that feel?”

“Like hittin’ a sack of beans.”

Savelad lumbered to his feet and removed his scabbard from his waist. “Try this one,” he said, gesturing Keane to take his sword. Keane pulled Savelad’s blade from the scabbard. It was light in weight, but still, almost heavy, in a way. It felt powerful. He held the sword in front of him, his feet in stance. “Whatta ya feel, now?”

“That’s enough. Sheath the blade.” The curved blade slid into the scabbard and locked into place with a click. Savelad returned the weapon back to its place on his belt and collapsed back onto his barrel of a stool.

“What if I don’t have a soul?”

“‘Met a man once. Said that he had to earn his soul. Never paid that thought much mind. Seems you’ve done more to earn yer soul than I did at yer age.” The Captain took another swig. “Don’ worry. You’ll find it.”

Well we have successfully taken over the ship and put Zzyzx in the captain’s role. I have learned that I am surprisingly good at skinning a human being, a corpse of course. Sadly Croup walked in on that and I accidentally made an example for him. I just wanted those murderous bastards to know not to mess with us. It’s not like Plugg needs his skin anymore. Anyways, we saw some pirate ships engaged in battle against a merchant ship so we went onto an island to see if we could gather any more shipmates from either side. Ends up the pirates are more cats…. The merchants are far too much for us to take so instead we have a tentative alliance.

Spent the last 24 hours fighting for our lives, save our lost crew mates, and head back to the ship for a well deserved rest—- Get attacked by half the crew. Mother Fuckers. Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! We haven’t been through enough these last few days? This is the time when they choose to kill us? What complete and utter morons, if it had been me I would have waited until we were closer to port, when we can be easily replaced. At least we killed most of them, including that fat tub of waste (was going to let him live as a jester of sorts but he pushed it), and anyone left will learn: Do not mess with us.

It was during meal one night — after not a bad day of hard work. Everyone was sitting around, some how managing to sort of enjoy their meal of slop-in-a-bowl. Kroop approached, a bowl in one hand, a bottle in the other. “Hey,” he said, “I got a question for you all.” The crew pretended not to notice him at first, but then again, he spoke, this time a little louder, “I say I got a question for you?”

Finally, some irritated voice asked, “What’s yer question?”

Kroop cleared his throat, took a swig from his bottle, and cleared his throat once more. Then, sound came out of his mouth:

What do you do with a drunken sailor,What do you do with a drunken sailor,What do you do with a drunken sailor,Early in the morning?